The Beauty of Summer
by metagrapes
Summary: In which Ivan recalls a fond but somewhat foreboding memory with the young Tsarevich, one that reminded him of the futility of youth.


**ARTIST OF COVER ART (in which this story was inspired from): chevalierviolet (Tumblr)**

**That is where it begins.**

* * *

"Dada Vanya, can you keep a secret?"

"Mm, what is it?" They were relaxing together in the middle of a grand field, Ivan sitting upright and Alexei lying down facing the sky, no doubt already receiving numerous grass stains on the back of his pearl white sailor suit.

"Don't tell Mama, but I don't believe it was our friend* who healed me."

He looked down at the boy, living now at the age of ten, perplexed that he would mention this years after his near-death experience in Spala. "Why do you say that?"

The young Tsarevich shrugged. "Perhaps he helped me feel better, but I think in the end it was I who told myself that I needed to live a little longer."  
Ivan remained silent, listening.

"At first, I thought I needed to survive so that one day I would succeed Papa and become Emperor of Russia. But if I am sick all the time, how do I know I will live long enough for that to happen?"

He continued to gaze down at him, though he could not resist the twinge of bewilderment at the boy's rather unexpected, foreboding realization.  
"Then I thought, 'Alexei, you must have wanted to live long enough to see summer again, so that you may go out into the fields and run around and play once more. Live, so that you may once again lie on your back and watch the clouds.'"

He chuckled quietly, at this child who was much too thoughtful beyond his years. "And why do you watch the clouds, Lyosha?"

"I like to think and wonder."

"What do you think and wonder about?"

"Oh, so many things," he replied, the twinkle of the sunlight reflected in his eyes. "I enjoy the sun and the beauty of summer as long as I can. Who knows whether one of these days I shall not be prevented from doing it?"

* * *

He could not explain how that memory suddenly appeared in his mind. Perhaps it was because of where he sat now, on top the cool grass, basking in the sun's almost sweltering warmth, that sparked his remembrance of that specific summer's day. Or the group of children he watched now, running around playfully and belting cries of happiness, which reminded him of the way he and the other children used to play.

It was a memory that hinted darkness and bad omens, made clear by the boy's words in which he indicated his keen awareness of his imminent doom. Yet it also served as one of his fondest. The sparkle in his youthful eyes that did not just result from the sun's brilliant rays - it was a gleam that indicated the boyish charm he still possessed, despite the maturity he seemed to express otherwise; maturity that he must have developed not only from the several instances he nearly lost his life from a simple bruise or injury, but the inevitable fate established upon him in which he would soon rule in his father's stead, that caused him to grow up faster than any regular child.

Indeed, it was the vision of that wonder, that pure love for innocent things like helping others, or basking in the warmth and freedom of summer, or watching the clouds and dreaming aimlessly, that remained impressed upon Ivan. Even now he pondered over the origin of his own adoration for these childish musings, whether it originated from his deprived upbringing or the sole purpose to live through such young fantasies for those children, whom he had loved and cherished, who could not.

Youth is such a futile concept, he solemnly thought. It will blaze bright and fiercely like fire, but will be lost just as quickly. Perhaps that is why somewhere deep in his mind, he vowed to remain a child at heart forever. He inclined backwards until he was lying face-up, hands woven together and resting behind his head. Watching the clouds, and enjoying the sun and the beauty of summer for as long as he could.

* * *

*** 'Our friend' refers to Rasputin, as that is what the Romanov children were t****aught to refer to him as.**

**A/N: Yes, that is Alexei Nikolaevich****Romanov with Ivan. The entire conversation is completely fictional, but the last few lines (starting with "I like to think and wonder" and continuing on with "Oh, so many things...") is an actual quote from the young Tsarevich, though it was said to his sister Olga when she asked him what he was doing. I decided to change things up and have Ivan there instead.**

**I do not know how accurately I was able to portray Alexei here, nor do I have any confidence that it is, since he obviously was never someone I (or probably anyone who is alive right now) personally knew. But from my reading, it is said that he was indeed "well aware that he might not live to adulthood". (Wikipedia) The Tsar's Colonel Mordinov remembered him as "lazy, but very capable . . . easily grasped everything, he was thoughtful and keen beyond his years" and "undoubtedly promised to possess a firm and independent character in the future."**  
**Also, 'dada' means Uncle in Russian. Because, y'know, having the Romanov children call Ivan "Uncle Vanya" just seems really fuckin' cute.**

**Last but not least, please let me know if there is anything historically inaccurate about this. I seem to recall reading that Rasputin "cured" Alexei in Spala in 1912, in which he gains the trust of the Romanovs. But, you never know, I've fucked up before when it came to writing historical fanfiction - I don't want to make that same mistake again!**


End file.
